Of Rebellion And Stupid Diets
by Glinda
Summary: A strange and malevolent force had taken over Hermione's mother and she was going to need some help...


TITLE: Of Rebellion & Stupid Diets  
  
AUTHOR: Glinda  
  
SUMMARY: During PS before Hermione goes home for Christmas she tells Harry and Ron that both her parents are dentists, yet her Christmas presents to both of them are sweets. For a girl who seems to live for rules she spends a lot of time both breaking them and...being in Honeydukes...Inspired by several of my friend's mums reactions to a certain article in the Sunday Times supplement...!  
  
For she was in serious need of a Cheering Charm and I couldn't get her any Chocolate Frogs...  
  
Set during the summer between...4th and 5th year before Hermione heads off to Grimmauld Place  
  
"Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll and she was much nicer for it." (p. 134) PS  
  
"'Are you feeling all right?' Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief. 'Now you mention it,' said Hermione happily, 'd'you know...I think I'm feeling a bit...rebellious.' (p. 559) OotP  
  
Hermione Granger had never considered herself a particularly vengeful person. Nor a rebellious one. Well, perhaps the second should have been qualified by before she went to Hogwarts... But this was something else. She could tolerate many things, overlook many faults: how else did she maintain her friendship with Ron Weasley? However, this time the subject of her, she felt, righteous anger was neither Ron nor Harry. It wasn't even a person, though admittedly she held some resentment towards her mother for her part in the scheme. This was quashed through her conviction that her mother was merely an innocent pawn being manipulated to ruin Hermione's summer holidays. She turned her hate-filled glare on the opposite side of the kitchen. Pinned to the notice-board in her parent's kitchen was the hated thing.  
  
It had started innocently enough on a quiet Sunday afternoon several weeks previously. She'd always enjoyed Sunday afternoons with her parents. While either or both of them might have to work on a Saturday, the Dental Practice they both worked for was closed on Sundays. While they were both self-confessed workaholics and firm atheists, they both believed that it was important to spend this one day a week relaxing together as a family. Hermione had never been allowed to do homework on Sundays, a fact she now considered good training for her later school career as it ensured she never left her homework to the last minute. Followed in the evening by some form of take-away food - Chinese, Indian, fish & chips, or pizza. As a small child it had also marked the only day she was allowed to eat sweets or chocolate, acting as dessert to an unusual meal. That particular Sunday had seemed so normal that Hermione had never suspected her life was about to be turned upside down. Her father had been happily confusing himself over the Sunday Prophet as he made his weekly stab at showing willing to "relate" to his daughter's world. Hermione was taking the opportunity to read the pile of Muggle literature her uncle gave her each birthday and couldn't understand why she no longer had time to read them. Her mother had been perusing the Sunday Times supplement for interesting articles to disguise the fact that the crossword had her somewhat stumped. Little did she know that by the end of the day Hermione would be regretting her mother's ineptitude at cryptic crosswords.  
  
At first Hermione and her father had just presumed it was just a reaction to the article, another of her mother's "little phases". Like yoga, soya milk, spiritualism and the various half-completed craft projects that were scattered around the spare room. Unfortunately this one wasn't over by the following weekend. It was taking over their lives. It wasn't as though their diet had been particularly unhealthy...her parents were dentists for goodness sake, they didn't live on soft drinks and microwave meals like some of her old Muggle school-friends' families. Anything remotely fatty, sugary, unhealthy or even tasty had been removed from their diet. Hermione's father reached breaking point two weeks into the holidays, only two days after Hermione had received an owl from Dumbledore to tell her she was being taken off to help 'the old crowd'. Hermione had felt herself salivate at the mere thought of Mrs Weasley's cooking. That morning's bacon sandwiches had had every last sliver of fat removed from the rashers, despite her father's protests that the crispy bits were best. As she wandered about their garage helping her father finish clearing it out, Hermione pondered that her father was still in shock from her mother throwing out the fancy ice-cream he'd bought to go with their fruit salad of somewhat bizarre fruits.  
  
"Hermione..." he questioned quietly as they worked, "you're not allowed to do magic during the school holidays are you?"  
  
"No...otherwise we'd have had this done in about five minutes flat!"  
  
"Yes, yes, of course...pity..."  
  
"Why. What did you have in mind?" Hermione was intrigued; her father was the most law-abiding person she knew why would he of all people be encouraging her to do magic while she was still under age?  
  
" Just...well, you remember that Defence teacher you had who turned out to be a fraud who was only good at memory charms?"  
  
"Yes..." Hermione nodded eyeing her father with a mixture of worry and suspicion.  
  
"Well...you said that it would probably be Ron's father who came to collect you tomorrow...do you think...you could...possibly..." he trailed off into silence.  
  
"Possibly what, Dad?"  
  
"Persuadehimtoputacharmonhertoremovehermemoryofthatblastedarticle...!" came his answer in a muttered rush.  
  
"Dad!"  
  
"I know, I know," he commented wringing his hands guiltily, "it's highly unethical but...I don't think I can take her crusading all summer and beyond...! I know you're thinking it too! I mean it's alright for you. I saw the look on your face when you got that letter from Dumbledore: you've never looked that eager to leave here - not even when you first got your Hogwarts acceptance letter..." he sighed, "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, I just..."  
  
Hermione wrapped her arm around her father comfortingly, laying her head on his shoulder before replying.  
  
"I know, I wish too...but Ron's dad works for the Ministry for Magic; he'd get into more trouble than me!"  
  
"That magic in front of Muggles thing?"  
  
"Fraid so..."  
  
"Oh well. Let's get back inside, we'd better get you packed for going."  
  
Hermione continued to glare at the hateful thing across the kitchen as though she could erase it through the sheer power of her desire to rid them of it. She was somewhat put out by having a perfectly good glare spoiled by someone sniggering. Professor Remus J. Lupin tried and failed to keep a straight face as his former pupil turned a look of deep disgust and loathing she normally reserved only for Slytherins, in particular Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape.  
  
"Does your mother do this regularly do this, Hermione?"  
  
"Her mother has a slight tendency to...obsess..." commented her father, checking over his shoulder to ensure his wife was still upstairs before continuing, "just not to this extent."  
  
"So you want me to...?"  
  
"Please Professor, it's not for me, it's for my father's sake. If you don't, I'll have to start sending him food parcels from Hogwarts so he doesn't starve..."  
  
The prematurely greying werewolf sighed in a world-weary fashion; he hated trying to be the grown up. He remembered his own mother's diet obsession, at least she'd never inflicted it upon him. Oh well, if growing up with James and Sirius had taught him anything it was how to extract the advantage from a bargain...  
  
"Somehow Remus, I don't think that would stand up in the eyes of the Ministry..."  
  
"So...Hermione's mother gets her obsession cured, her father doesn't starve, she gets to eat guilt free, I get to practice my Memory charms and you get an obscenely large pile of Sunday Times crosswords to keep you from getting too grouchy..."  
  
"Oi! I'm not grouchy!"  
  
"Sure...keep telling yourself that Padfoot. Like I was saying everybody wins...as long as nobody tells Molly!"  
  
"Moony, I may be many things: sarcastic, cynical, rash, impulsive, arrogant and irritatingly handsome in my youth...but I am not suicidal!"  
  
"Oh, shut up both of you and pass me the Chocolate Frogs!"  
  
And that's it! It's my first attempt at writing humour so I apologise hugely for its lousiness!!!!!! 


End file.
